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Are Jews Bad Drivers?

A humorous encounter at the barbershop leads to a deeper lesson about prejudice and perspective.

Not too long ago I had the good fortune of defending the Jewish people. It occurred when I was innocently visiting the barber salon waiting for my regular haircut. The barber called out across the room: "Rabbi, you are next." Upon hearing my title, an elderly gentleman waiting nearby turned to me and asked: "Rabbi, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I replied, bracing myself for something theological.

"Why are Jews such bad drivers?"

I was taken aback. Of all the questions a Rabbi might be asked, this was not one I had prepared for. But I recovered quickly.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

He explained that he lived in a heavily Jewish neighborhood and had observed, in his estimation, a disproportionate number of traffic incidents involving Jewish drivers. He was genuinely curious—not hostile, just perplexed.

I thought for a moment and then offered him an alternative perspective. "Have you considered," I said, "that what you're observing might not be about driving skill at all, but about community density? In a neighborhood with a high concentration of any group, you'll see more of that group on the road. More people means more incidents—not because they're worse drivers, but because there are simply more of them."

He nodded thoughtfully. But I wasn't done.

"There's also a deeper point," I continued. "Jews tend to live in tight-knit communities. We walk to synagogue, we visit neighbors, our kids play in the streets. Our neighborhoods are designed for community, not for cars. The fact that you see more activity on the roads in Jewish neighborhoods is actually a sign of something beautiful—a community that lives together, celebrates together, and yes, occasionally bumps fenders together."

He laughed. "I never thought of it that way," he said.

This small exchange reminded me of an important principle: most prejudice comes not from malice but from a lack of perspective. When we take the time to offer a different lens—gently, with humor and respect—we can change how people see the world.

The Talmud teaches that we should always judge others favorably. This applies not just to how we judge individuals, but to how we respond when others judge us. Instead of getting defensive or angry, we can choose to educate, to reframe, and to build bridges.

So are Jews bad drivers? I don't think so. But we are, perhaps, unusually good at living in community. And if that means a few extra dents in our bumpers, I'll take that trade any day.